Lost at the Edge of Yesterday
by julieb716
Summary: Yet another coda to 5.04. Because I had to. Getting out of Colombia.


_This episode was so sad. Broke my heart like so many others of you. Will miss Matt, but I understand why the producers did what they did. But I don't have to like it! _

_Thank you Phoebe Miller for your awesome beta'ing (is that a word?), suggestions and especially for that one, brilliant suggestion that made this one shot so, so much better. You are a rock star for putting up with my constant tweaking. _

_No it's not perfect. Never will be, even though I try so desperately. Italics in the story are Danny talking to himself. I may have missed a few. :-)_

_Normal Disclaimers apply: Just playing with the boys before I give them back to Lenkov and CBS_**. **

**NOTE: ** Thank you to Ilmare-Ilse for pointing out my reference to Columbia as possibly offensive to its people. This was from Danny's POV at the moment. But after re-reading this part, I agree with her 100%. FYI, a recent poll showed the people from Colombia as some of the happiest people in the world. It's not all crime and drugs. So, this has been fixed in my story. I am truly sorry if the original version of my description of Colombia offended anyone.

*** H 5-0 ***

Danny hesitated, but only briefly. He was a mess. He had been gently manhandled into cleaning up in a rundown gas station on the outskirts of one of the poorest cities in Colombia.

It truly was a pity that his first, and probably only, visit to the country would leave him with some of the worst memories, when he remembered, of his life. He would never know the beautiful parts and good people of Colombia. Only the seedy underbelly of drugs, drug lords and crime.

Steve had literally hauled his ass out of that hellhole. He was so out of it. If his partner hadn't made sure he was moving, he's sure he would have collapsed.

Where did the clean T-shirt come from? Steve stripped the bloodied shirt off of him. Used a paper towel that took forever to get wet from the cold, slow drip of the barely working faucet, to clean the sweat and bloody specks from his face. He should be able to clean himself, but he was barely coherent and his limbs weren't much use to him either at the moment, only doing what they were told to do by his pal. He looked up into the broken mirror of the small bathroom and saw his friend's face as well as his own. _Why wasn't Steve's face covered in bloody specks, too?_ At least Steve was as sweaty as he was. The Colombian heat was oppressive.

He caught Steve looking in the mirror at him. Was that concern he saw etched on his face? Worry? Fear? Pity? Annoyance? He couldn't catalog his face which worried him just a little. Usually he was so good at it.

Danny didn't have much time to ponder about his Steve-face-cataloging ability as they were suddenly moving again. Quickly. He was being pushed, pulled and at one point he could swear the big guy was going to throw him over his shoulder if he didn't move faster. He picked up his pace.

Steve pushed him into the backseat of the old, beat up '87 Chevy van and climbed in next to him. "Go," he mouthed to the driver. Going where, Danny didn't have a clue. All he knew was that he was incredibly tired. Exhausted truthfully. All he wanted was a soft bed. A soft pillow. And sleep. Since that wasn't available at the moment, he chose to lean against his partner who didn't seem to mind. He closed his eyes. Steve didn't seem to mind that either. They bounced along the cobbled, dirt roads for what seemed like hours finally stopping at what looked like an old airfield, one that didn't look like it had been used in a while, or at the very least, not often.

Steve told him to stay put for a minute. He had to deal with a couple of details before they boarded a plane for home. Danny didn't mind. He just closed his eyes again. There was noise coming from the back of the van, but he ignored it. The clanging and banging was soothing in an odd sort of way.

A few minutes later he was being hustled out of the van and herded towards what looked like an old World War II bomber. _What the hell? _There were a couple of guys dressed all in camouflage khakis and dark green T-shirts bringing up the rear with at least a half dozen large black duffle bags. The bags looked familiar. Two other guys were coming down the steps of the plane. _Where the hell did they all come from? _Everything was happening way too fast for his muddled brain. He was being pushed up the steps of the plane. _God, could this thing even get off the ground? _He looked at Steve questioningly who was so focused on his task at hand that he didn't even realize Danny was staring at him. Danny trusted him so completely. It was nice to have your own SuperSEAL who had an "army" _of his own _at the ready. Steve must know every rogue who had ever been in any armed service of just about any country. At least it seemed like he did. As Danny's thoughts wandered, his feet stumbled up the stairs at Steve's continued prodding.

As he entered the plane something stirred in his memory. He'd been on this plane before. But when? Distorted memories began to flash in his mind as his friend gently nudged him into a seat on the left-hand side of the plane. Funny, the seats were on the side, not like a regular commercial plane. As he was buckled in, his buddy gave him a small smile, worn, but a smile nonetheless. It made him feel safe. He wondered what was wrong with him. He knew that he was a capable, functioning adult, but he sure wasn't acting like one. Steve was treating him like he was a porcelain doll or worse like a 'damsel in distress'. God, how he hated that!

Leaning back, he watched the others load all those black duffle bags next to something covered with a dark tarp. He was only cursorily watching them. He didn't care much about anything at the moment. He just wanted to go home.

What seemed like hours since they had left the gas station was in reality less than an hour. Whoever organized this trip was methodical and meticulous about details. He rested his head on the miniscule cushion of the seatback and closed his eyes. _Let's get this show on the road. I want to go home. I want my bed. I want my car. I want my daughter. _

He had just started to doze off when he heard Steve at the entrance to the less than luxurious passenger seating talking to a couple of the khaki-clad fellows. He heard the words _shock, trauma, exhaustion, death, trigger _float his way. _Boy, somebody must be in a bad way_. He hoped they were going to be okay. He tried to get comfortable again, but these seats weren't real conducive for that.

Just as he was beginning to relax, again, and starting to drift off, again, his arm was bumped by Steve sitting down into the seat next to him. Groggily he opened his eyes slightly and frowned at his friend. Steve just smiled at him while buckling himself in. _Steve was sure smiling at him a lot. Sort of like how he was when trying to calm Grace when she was upset. An understanding, loving smile. _

Seems they were ready to get going. _About time. _Whatever was under the tarp was being strapped down and Danny curiously watched two of the khaki guys ensuring it was secure. Whatever it was, they sure we're spending a lot of time on it. _What was so damned important about that thing anyway? Let's go. I want to go home. God, I sound like a whiny little girl. But at least it's only in my head… I think. _

Finally, _finally_, the steps were retracted and the door closed. Danny put his head back and wished he had a pillow. As if reading his mind, a small pillow, Army green no less, was put behind his head. That was better. He felt a hand close over his right hand. There could only be one paw that large and that familiar. Steve. His parachute. His safety net. He relaxed.

He felt the movement of the plane. Heard the grinding of the engines revving up. The plane couldn't be as old as he thought though. Cool air was filtering through the cabin. Not air conditioning. Not yet at least, but air circulating was good. Very good. He sighed.

As the plane prepared for takeoff, he was starting to really decompress not realizing he had been so tense. He didn't like closed in spaces, but somehow he knew this closed in space was a good thing. It was taking him away from something awful. He didn't know what, he just knew it was awful. Soon he'd be able to breathe again. Once he was back in the familiar heat of Hawaii. Different from this heat. Colombian heat. Yeah, Hawaii heat was definitely better. Safer at least.

He felt a sense of peace when the plane took off and started its climb to its cruising altitude. Until one of the straps on whatever was under the tarp snapped. Technically they were supposed to stay seated for at least another 10 to 15 minutes. But then another strap loosened and the object moved a couple of inches. _Damnit. Damned thing wasn't going to let him sleep. _Now it was starting to break loose for real. Steve was up faster than a speeding bullet to provide some steadiness for the cargo before it made its way down the length of the plane. _Why wasn't there a separate cargo bay? _Danny watched somewhat detached for a minute. There was another khaki guy helping Steve to steady it, waiting he presumed for the plane to level off before trying to restrain it permanently again. Must be pretty heavy, because they seemed to be struggling to hold it in place while the plane completed its ascent.

He figured he may as well help, so he unbuckled his dual shoulder seatbelts and stood up a little unsteadily, probably due to the current tilt of the plane. Holding on to the side of the fuselage, he eased himself towards the object between his friend and the other guy. As he approached it, he started to sweat and felt a little queasy. Steve eyed him warily as he maintained his stance to keep the cargo in place. Danny just gave Steve a small smile, but at the same time noticed his own reticence to get too close to the dang thing. He wasn't sure why he felt that way, but he shrugged it off. It was then the tarp decided to partially fall off exposing the top and side of the oil drum. _**The Trigger**. _What Steve had so carefully orchestrated to get on the plane and covered before Danny saw it. Steve mildly cursed as he tried to grab the tarp while maintaining his position to secure the drum. Within a couple of inches of it, Danny stopped and stared at the filthy, rusty oil drum. He knew what precious cargo was stored within. Without a doubt, he knew.

And then it happened. All the memories, all the feelings came flooding back, completely overwhelming him. He jumped back like he had been burned and instantly crumpled to the floor by the drum wrapping his arms around it. "Matty," he whispered. "Matty". His whispers quickly turned into sobs. His litany of _"Matty, Matty, Matty"_ did not escape Steve's ears. Danny was wracked with sobs and guilt. _"_I'm so sorry. God, I'm so sorry. Why did I aggravate that scumbag? You might be alive if I hadn't angered him so. It's my fault you're gone. My fault. Why did I have to go off half-cocked on him? Yeah, he taught me, didn't he?" He couldn't stop crying. He hadn't even realized the plane had leveled off. His wails increased as Steve sat down on the floor of the plane next to him. His Superman. His Ninja SEAL. His Neanderthal. His partner. His best friend.

Steve. Ever dependable, always there when he needed him. Steve wrapped his arms around him as Danny continued to keep his arms around the drum. Placing his head on Danny's shoulder, Steve held his aggrieved friend tightly but tenderly offering what little comfort he could, his own tears welling up and spilling over.

"It'll be okay, Danno. We'll get through this. Together. I'll be right by your side, I promise. I love you, buddy."

Danny quietly responded through his tears, "I love you, too, babe. Thank you for being here."

Hugging the dirty, rusty barrel even tighter, he whispered, "I love you, Matty."


End file.
